


Disarmament

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-21 12:30:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4829222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Susannah Shepherd</p><p>Avon returns from a 'Scorpio' mission in a state of violent paranoia and the others realise that he needs help, fast. Soolin volunteers to try to get close enough to him to do something. But he'll kill her if she goes armed...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disarmament

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).
> 
> **Original Author's Notes:**
> 
> Previously published in the Freedom City mailing list. Originally also archived at Susannah Shepherd's Fiction Collection (Geocities).

"Welcome back, Avon," Vila said cheerfully as the doors to _Scorpio_ 's flight bay opened and the scowling dark-haired man passed through them. "How'd it go then?" he chattered on. "Here, you're all loaded up, let me take Orac."

As Vila stepped forward to relieve Avon of Orac's awkward bulk, Avon shifted the computer on to one hip and slammed Vila into the tunnel wall with his free arm. Vila cried out, lifted one hand to his mouth and exclaimed again as he saw his own blood on his fingers.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked in a small voice, full of hurt and incomprehension. Vila let out another whimper as he looked up, and found himself staring down the barrel of Avon's gun. Even worse, he looked up into Avon's face, and saw only madness and death staring back at him from the cold brown eyes. His natural defence mechanisms kicked in, and Vila crumpled to the floor in a faint.

#  #  #

"Tarrant, Soolin, you'd better get down here. I need your help." Vila's voice sounded weak and shaky over the communicator link to Xenon base's control room.

Tarrant made a sound of exasperation, but Soolin frowned. She was getting used to Vila's work-shy whinging, but this time he sounded genuinely frightened. "What's wrong, Vila?"

"It's Avon. I think he's finally flipped. He...," Vila's voice cracked, and he paused. They could both hear a slight sniffle. "He pulled a gun on me, then knocked me out."

"Vila, are you _sure_?" Tarrant said in surprise.

"Of course I'm bloody sure!" Vila yelled at him, his voice high-pitched with tension, and Soolin gave Tarrant a dirty look.

"Where's Dayna?" she asked.

"I don't know," Vila said miserably. "She wasn't with Avon. I think she's still on _Scorpio_.'

"All right, we're on our way," she answered.

"Be careful," he said. "Come armed. I thought...," his voice wavered again, "I really thought he was going to kill me."

Soolin snatched up weapons for herself and Tarrant, and slotted stun clips into both of them. She shoved a drug clip and a laser clip into her jumpsuit pocket and tossed another laser clip to the pilot. "Just in case. Let's hope we don't have to use these."

He gave a grim nod, and they set off carefully towards the flight bay. They didn't see any sign of Avon on the way. Vila jumped with nervousness as they came around the corner, his face pale except for the smear of blood which trailed down from his split lip.

"Did you see him?" he asked, his eyes wide and fearful.

Soolin shook her head. "He didn't come back to the control room or crew room. Come on, let's find Dayna."

She led the way through the doors and on board _Scorpio_ , but Tarrant pushed past her as they made their way to the flight deck.

"Dayna!" he cried, then dashed across to the recliners. Dayna's eyes flashed bloodshot and angry from above the crude gag which had been tied around her mouth, and she struggled against her bonds.

"Where is the bastard!" Dayna shouted hoarsely as Tarrant folded down beside her in a tangle of long limbs and tugged the gag off. Vila had also scurried to her side, and his nimble fingers had her unbound in seconds. She stretched her cramped limbs, then reached up to finger the back of her head with a pained grimace.

"What's wrong with him, Dayna?" Vila asked, and Dayna frowned as she took in Vila's battered face.

"You too?" she said, and Vila nodded and touched his damaged lip again, wincing.

"He was fine when we left Nyrene," she complained. "An hour or so out, he mentioned a headache, so it must have been bad by then. He didn't seem to be getting better, so I went to get him something for it. When I gave him the glass, he threw it across the deck and accused me of trying to poison him!"

Soolin shared a worried glance with Vila. This wasn't sounding good. She didn't know Avon as well as the rest of them, but on a couple of occasions his icy ruthlessness had disturbed even her. She got the feeling from the others that he hadn't always been quite that hard, or so casually violent.

The star drive had been a case in point. Soolin recognised the need for what Avon had done--she admired his instinct for self-preservation, and his ability to think under pressure--but she didn't like his casual, offhanded behaviour after. You had to kill to survive sometimes, but you didn't have to get smart about it. Then, at other times, he'd shown gentle compassion and flashes of genuine good humour. The contrast between the two sides of Avon didn't say much for his overall stability or self-control.

Still, something didn't seem quite right to Soolin. If he were on a downward spiral after the loss of the _Liberator_ , he might finally have slid into madness, but so suddenly and violently?

"What happened then, Dayna?" she asked.

"I can't remember," she said, with an annoyed frown. "I woke up tied here with a lump on the back of my head, so he must have jumped me and knocked me out. He didn't say anything to me for the rest of the trip back. It was horrible."

"How do you feel now?" Tarrant asked, concerned.

"Just a headache," Dayna said, "maybe a little concussion. I don't think I was out for long."

Soolin had been pondering Dayna's account. "And he gave no indication that anything was wrong, apart from his headache? There were no problems with the trip?"

"No, we've got the supplies, they're in the hold, and we got them at a good price. We were only down on the planet for a few hours." She gave a humourless laugh. "He even looked like he was enjoying himself when we were at the market, he bought me lunch, real fresh food, not space rations."

"Definitely not himself, then," Tarrant muttered under his breath, but the others ignored him.

Dayna had provided the extra clue Soolin had been looking for. "Food. Poison. I'll bet he's been poisoned, or drugged. That would explain the headache, and how he got so paranoid so fast."

"Will he be all right?" Vila asked in a small, worried voice.

"I don't know," she said, "I'm only guessing what's wrong. But I think we'd better find him. And we'd also better assume that he's irrational as well as dangerous." She went to the weapons locker and threw it open to get guns for Vila and Dayna.

"Damn!" The others came over and looked inside. Most of the guns were still there, but all the clips were gone.

"He might be irrational, but he's certainly not stupid," Tarrant remarked.

Soolin took out one of the guns, slipped the drug clip from her pocket into it, and handed it to Dayna. She then took one look at the tension in Vila's face and decided they'd all be safer if he were unarmed. He made no move to take a gun for himself.

"We need Orac," Soolin said decisively. "It'll be able to tell us what's wrong with Avon and what to do about it."

"No good," Vila broke in, "Avon's got it."

"Hang on," Tarrant said, "we might be able to get Slave to link with Orac from here. We should have _Scorpio_ powered up on standby, too, in case Avon decides to do something seriously deranged."

He turned to the flight computer. "Slave, start pre-flight checks."

"I'm sorry, sir," Slave's obsequious voice replied, "but that isn't possible, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean, it isn't possible!" Tarrant exploded.

"The master, sir, he forbade me to allow _Scorpio_ to leave Xenon base without his express approval." The computer sounded truly apologetic, but that didn't help any of them.

"What was that about doing something seriously deranged?" Vila said ruefully.

"Avon, you complete bastard," Tarrant growled.

"We don't need to panic yet," Soolin said. "Slave, are you able to contact Orac, and act as a voice link for us?"

"I can broadcast a request for communication to the Orac machine," Slave said, sounding almost sniffy. "It may not answer."

"Wait!" Vila said. "If Avon's gone all paranoid, he might be expecting us to try to get in touch with Orac. Slave, it's very important that you tell Orac that it mustn't tell Avon that we're communicating with it, or Orac's own safety might be at risk."

"Very good, sir. Orac may be at risk, sir?"

"And so might we, Slave," Soolin said warningly. "Once you have warned Orac, tell it that Avon is unwell. We need Orac's help to diagnose and treat him."

Slave spun on his axis for a few seconds then spoke again. "I'm very sorry, sirs and madams, but Orac is currently deactivated, so I cannot give you a direct voice link as requested."

"But you can communicate?" Soolin asked.

"Yes, madam," Slave assured.

"Then tell Orac that we suspect Avon has been drugged or poisoned, and that he has become violently paranoid. Can it confirm this?"

Slave rotated again. "Orac confirms that the master's behaviour has become delusional, but it cannot determine the cause without recourse to medical diagnostic facilities. An ingested substance is the most likely cause, but external conditioning, a physical injury to the head or organic mental illness are also possibilities."

Dayna shivered at that last potential diagnosis. "But can Orac treat him?"

"I do apologise, madam, but Orac says treatment is not possible until a clear diagnosis is made."

"So we have to get Avon into the medical unit," Soolin said. "That's hardly going to be easy in his current state. Slave, tell Orac to do what it can to keep Avon acting normally."

"We'd better find him, then," Tarrant said. "Preferably before he finds us." He shifted the gun uncomfortably from hand to hand.

"Let's get back to the control room," Soolin said. "We can track him from there, find what he's doing."

The four of them made their way cautiously back to the control room, then Soolin sat at the main console and began the search using the base's sensors and communicators. Dayna helped at another terminal. Vila went straight to a cupboard, rummaged about at the back, pulled out a bottle of alcohol, and poured himself a large glass. He tossed that back then poured another. For once, no-one bothered to taunt him.

"Here!" the younger woman called out. "The sensors say there's life signs in one of the storerooms."

"Oh, no, Avon, no," Soolin sighed, as she looked at the readout relayed from Dayna's screen. "Not in there."

"What's the matter?" Tarrant asked. His voice was becoming sharp with the tension.

"He's chosen the one room on base that Vila can't get into. Deliberately so, I imagine."

"What do you mean?" Vila asked, affronted at the idea that there was any room he couldn't get into.

"It's an old-fashioned construction, something Dorian picked up. It's got an ordinary modern lock on the outside, it wouldn't keep you out for more than a few minutes. But it's got herculanium bars on the inside as well, and the door frame's herculanium alloy too. The only way in is to cut through the herculanium or the walls, and they're pretty thick."

"Oh," Vila said, thinking. "Bars on the _inside_? In a storeroom?"

Soolin nodded. "I think Dorian had it fitted up as a bolt-hole. We'll never get Avon out unless he wants to come out. And if he's been drugged..."

"We need to get in to him while he's still capable of opening the door," Vila finished. "It could take too long to cut through all that lot, even assuming he didn't try to kill us in the process."

There was a moment's silence while everyone pondered the options.

"We have to persuade him to let us in," Dayna said. "But how do we do that if he's paranoid? He's hardly going to trust any of us, is he?"

"He doesn't trust anyone anyway," Vila said morosely, swilling another mouthful of drink. "And he's been dangerous enough when he's in a bad mood lately, rational or not."

"Well then, I'm going to have to convince him to let me in there. He might if he knows I'm unarmed, a hostage would give him a bargaining chip," Soolin announced. "And if he's feeling ill, he'll need some help."

She then handed a clear perspex sheet around the crew, with a hastily scrawled note. _Orac can lock into the communicator network too. Avon might be monitoring conversations. I'll be going in to tranquillise him._

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Dayna asked, very worried.

"Not entirely," Soolin admitted, "but unless anyone else can come up with a better one... It has to be me, I think. He'd probably kill Tarrant on sight, Dayna, you're still a bit wobbly, and I don't think you want to face him again until he's better, do you, Vila?"

She said the last part gently, remembering the abject misery she'd seen on the man's face when he'd told them in detail about his encounter with Avon. Vila shook his head, and looked as though he was close to tears.

"I worked for another paranoid once," Soolin added. "Strange, it was me he trusted most--distrusted least, I mean--and the people closest to him that he started picking off first. I've got some idea what I'll be dealing with."

She squared her shoulders. "I'll go and get ready, then. Dayna, Tarrant, keep guarding the storeroom, stun clips only. Don't hurt him." She scribbled something else, and passed it to the two of them. _It's best if he knows you're there, no surprises. We don't need to kill him, not yet._

And if Avon had to die, it would be safest and best for all of them if she killed him, Soolin thought. She was the pro, after all, even if Avon was rather slack about paying her. She didn't have these complicated unspoken ties of loyalty to take into account. Dorian had been right. They were closely bonded, this lot. It was the only thing which could explain why they stayed together.

She laid a finger across Vila's lips to silence him, then took the glass from his hand before she grasped him by the wrist and led him off with her. She was going to need his delicate touch, sober, to make sure her plan came off.

#  #  #

Soolin shivered a little as she made her way towards the storeroom Avon had locked himself into. They didn't heat this little-used part of Xenon base, and the loose gown she wore was thin and the metal floor cold against her bare feet.

She turned into the corridor and saw both Dayna and Tarrant standing nervous but alert, guarding the closed door. Dayna didn't look at all well, but whether it was her injury or her worries over Avon, Soolin couldn't tell.

"Dayna, Tarrant, leave us," she said in a loud voice, then gestured for them to move just around the corner out of sight. Tarrant frowned, but she gestured again and he left reluctantly.

"All right, Avon," she called through the door. "It's just you and me. Let me in, please. I'm unarmed."

"You expect me to believe that? You're all waiting to take me as soon as the door's opened. I know what you want," the expected snarl came back.

"Get Orac to check, Avon. I'm not lying. I'm the only person in this corridor."

There was silence for a moment. "But you are not alone," fired back the wary voice.

"No," she admitted. "But I am unarmed. And you could easily kill me before they were even around the corner."

"Why should I believe you are unarmed? It's not your style, Soolin. It's more likely that you're the chosen assassin. You're the only one who could take me, one on one."

She allowed herself a laugh. "I've got very pressing reasons _not_ to kill you, Avon, like all those back wages. I never kill anybody who owes me money. And if you'll just open the door and let me in, you'll see why I can't be armed."

"Why do you want in?"

 _Just open the damned door, Avon!_ Soolin fumed to herself. It was hopeless trying to reason with him like this, in his unbalanced state, and she'd rather not even try.

"Because you can't stay in there forever," she said cautiously, wary of fanning the flames of his paranoia even higher. "Sooner or later, your food and water will run out. I know you don't believe me, but we really do mean you no harm."

"Hah!" he said. "You want Orac. Vila tried to take Orac."

"No, Avon," she soothed, repeating his name once again. She knew instinctively that she had to keep reminding him of himself, to renew his sense of identity. "Orac's yours, Vila was only trying to help. _Scorpio_ 's yours, the base is yours. We all know that." She paused for a moment. "I'm yours. We made a deal, remember? My first loyalty is to you. And I won't let anyone harm you, not if I can help it. Let me in, and I can protect you. Look after you."

The silence was long, and Soolin was on the verge of giving up when she heard Avon again, his voice still distrustful but starting to waver. "All right. I'm going to open the door. But if you move in here before I say so, or disobey me, I will kill you outright. Understood?"

"Loud and clear." Soolin slipped the gown from her shoulders, let it drop to the floor, and kicked it out of the way. The old-fashioned hinged door rattled slightly as he unbolted it from the inside, then she watched it inch open slowly. She never saw Avon, but once the door was ajar, she heard his voice, taut with tension.

"Come in. Very slowly."

Soolin stretched out her uncovered arms before her, wrists bent back and fingers splayed to show she was hiding nothing. She moved with small, slow steps, pushing her empty hands past the edge of the door, then sliding in a bare foot. She glided onwards until she stood in the middle of the storeroom, her hands up in an attitude of surrender. Avon stood against the far wall with the gun trained on her. Orac was placed on a nearby shelf, but she was relieved to see that the computer was currently deactivated. She didn't really want an audience for all this, even an inanimate electronic one.

"You can see, Avon, that I'm unarmed," she said in a low voice.

"Perhaps," he said, and stepped close to her. Soolin fought hard not to flinch as he slowly raised the gun and levelled it against her temple. "Towards the door, with me." She obeyed, careful not to give him the slightest excuse to shoot her. She'd seen his eyes, and had no doubt that he would do it. His loss of mental balance was so obvious that she felt a flash of pity for him, but she didn't dwell on it. Getting emotional would do Avon no good, and might get her killed.

"I've got Soolin," he called through the open door. "You make one move, and she's dead." There was no answer from the corridor. He circled around her, the gun never wavering from its target. He pushed the door closed with one hand and slid the heavy bars back into place.

Soolin let out the breath she had been holding as he stepped away from her again. She stared straight ahead as his eyes roved over her body, examining every inch of her. She hadn't worn these ghastly clothes since Dorian died--since Avon had killed him, she reminded herself. She couldn't afford to forget that he could and would kill if he felt threatened.

The outfit was the sort of tasteless thing Dorian had liked but she couldn't stand. The fact that it was made of sparkly gold lycra didn't help. The thin strips of fabric which passed as a top barely covered her breasts, and the ultra-tight short shorts left little to the imagination--which was the whole point of the exercise.

"Take off your top," Avon rasped, and her eyes snapped around to look at him. His face was set hard in his familiar mask, and it was only the disordered eyes that showed that it wasn't the normal Avon she was dealing with.

"Take it off!" he shouted. "You could be hiding something down there," he said, staring at her cleavage.

Soolin complied without speaking, slipping the straps off her shoulders then pulling the whole lot up over her breasts. It hurt, the fit was tight, but she didn't want to reach behind her to undo the clasps. It could be too easily misinterpreted. She wriggled free, then tossed the top away to land in the far corner.

"Nothing," she said, holding her arms out from her body so that he could see her entire torso was bare.

"No," he said, his voice pitched low, as he stepped towards her. Soolin saw a new fire in his eyes as he reached out his free hand and cradled one breast. He ran his fingers over it, exploring the contours of her curves, sliding his fingertips beneath and between, searching for anything against her skin. As he groped her, she felt his thumb sweep across her nipple, and she gasped at the sensation. His touch was cold, and her flesh hardened in response.

Avon gave her a chilly, psychotic smile and circled his thumb around and around, occasionally brushing across her taut flesh, teasing and arousing her. Yes, she thought, arousing. She couldn't just blame it on the cold in the room; there was an unmistakeable dampness growing between her legs. She hadn't quite expected this.

She'd always had a thing for armed men, and danger turned her on more than she liked to admit. But it was something of a shock to find that a dangerous armed lunatic was lighting her fires, even one as compelling as Avon. She'd have been lying if she said she hadn't recognised the likeness between them and been drawn to him, even with her misgivings about his stability. Life with Dorian had given her plenty of experience in that regard. But this was hardly the ideal time to act on her attraction.

Still, it would make her job much easier. If he thought for one moment that she was trying to deceive him, she was in big trouble.

"Oh," she breathed, as Avon's hand dropped for a second, and then moved to the other side and began its tantalising work all over again. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, letting the sensations wash over her. He still had control, she had to hand that to him. All the time he stroked and kneaded at her body with one hand, the other held the gun with unwavering stillness.

Soolin opened her eyes as Avon's fondling stopped. He had moved away a little, and the disturbing smile was gone. He looked at her with a slight grimace on his face and a look of uncertainty in his eyes, and she saw that he was breathing fast and raggedly.

"Turn around," he said. She did as he ordered, and wasn't entirely surprised to feel his open palm on her arse, skimming his hand across the tight, smooth fabric.

"You think I could hide anything under these?" she asked with a hint of amusement, but she shut up as the cold metal barrel of the gun thrust briefly into the small of her bare back.

"Quiet!" he growled. His hand moved to the cleft between her cheeks, and she felt one strong finger slide downwards in inspection. She parted her legs for him and the finger slid onwards, pushing between her thighs. He must be able to feel by now that the fabric was hot and moist with her excitement.

She sensed movement behind her, and she could feel his warmth against her shivery skin as he stood nearer. His free hand snaked back upwards over her bottom, then slipped around her waist. The action pulled her close to him and the studs on his jacket, cold and pointed, scraped her bare skin. His solid erection dug into her as well, warmer and less sharp-edged than the gun barrel.

His hand slid down over the front of her shorts, exploring her flat stomach and the creases between body and thighs before slipping between her legs once again. She couldn't hold back her groan of pleasure as his fingers found the most sensitive parts of her under the thin fabric, and she leaned back into his warm, strong body.

Avon tore himself away from her, and she turned carefully to find him levelling the gun at her again. His stare worried her, it was almost fixed and unblinking. She could well believe he'd been drugged, rather than had his sanity collapse suddenly under the weight of repeated disasters.

"Take them off." His voice was starting to tremble, and Soolin started to feel more nervous. She didn't want him to disintegrate on her now, he was unpredictable and erratic enough as it was. "Take them off! You and Dayna, you've been plotting, the two of you. Together," he snarled. "Admit it! You've hidden something, one of her new weapons."

"All right, I'm taking them off," she said soothingly, and began to peel off the shorts. "But no-one's been plotting against you, Avon, especially not me. You're imagining it. I'm yours, remember, yours." The shorts dropped around her ankles and she pushed them carefully away with her foot. She stood naked and unselfconscious before him. "Yours, Avon."

He gave another inarticulate snarl, then pounced. Soolin found herself stumbling across the room as he grabbed her by one wrist, spun her round, and shoved her hard enough to send her sprawling into the empty metal shelving which lined one wall. She couldn't bite down the shout of pain as she landed heavily and jarred her wrist against the unyielding surface. She let herself sag against one broad shelf while she hugged her damaged arm to her chest and mouthed a string of silent curses. This was starting to spin out of her control.

His hand reached around her again and tugged at the arm she was cradling, but his touch was careful as he drew it out from under her body. His fingers explored her wrist as though he were searching for damage. Once he was satisfied, he stretched her arm out until her fingers met one of the uprights on the shelf unit. He curled her hand around it, then did the same on the other side, so that Soolin was bent over at the waist and leaning against the shelves. The struts weren't too widely spaced, and she was able to take most of her weight on her braced arms.

She jumped involuntarily as she felt cold metal pressed against the inside of her thigh, just above the knee, but she understood what he wanted, and shuffled her feet wider apart. It was a vulnerable position; she couldn't see what he was doing behind her, and doubted she could react to anything even if she could see. It also made it extremely difficult to do what she had come here to do.

"I don't believe you, Soolin. I know what Dayna's capable of, with weapons, she and you both. I can see you together. Laughing. Plotting. Against me. Against the others too, for all I know. Like the Seska. Planning to take it all for yourselves."

"Not true, Avon, not true. You'll find nothing on me." He didn't answer her, but he did pull the gun away from her skin.

"I don't trust you."

"You don't trust anyone, you never have. But there's no need to distrust me."

She felt his hand on her again, cool against the hot skin over the base of her spine. She was prepared for what he did next, but she couldn't hold back a slight gasp as his fingers insinuated between her legs and into her wet flesh, seeking his target.

"Really, Avon," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, "there's places a girl just doesn't keep anything explosive, you _can_ trust me on that." He didn't answer, not even to tell her to be quiet.

Soolin took in a deep shuddering breath as one finger, then a second, slid into her inner warmth. His probing was methodical for a start, pressing deep inside her in exploration, but as she breathed out and relaxed he began to stroke her, slipping his fingers in and out in a slow, teasing, arousing rhythm. She arched her back, pushing into him, rocking in time with his movements, forcing him to go faster. He was setting her on fire, and she began to contract her muscles around him, trying to encourage him to give her more.

He withdrew his hand and she gave a low whimper of disappointment. The whimper turned into another gasp of surprise as his fingers traced backwards, and she felt him begin to probe at her anus. Her first reaction was to resist him, to twist away, but she could feel the gun pressed hard into her shoulder as he balanced over her splayed body. At least, from the angle of the butt and barrel, it seemed like he had it pointed away from her head.

Soolin stopped fighting and tried to relax. Things were going reasonably well and she didn't want to antagonise him, to break the fragile connection she was building up. His finger was wet and slippery with the juices of her own arousal, and she moaned as he worked his way insistently into her. It didn't hurt, not like she'd expected. In fact, it felt good, better than good. It got even better as he set up the same erotic rhythm which had already made her start to pant.

She started tightening around him again, and she heard what might almost have been a faint chuckle from behind her. He twisted his hand, which made her call out in inarticulate pleasure, and she started to groan more loudly as his thumb stroked at her velvety flesh, caressing her. It was torture, he was making her melt, but so far his hands had avoided the swelling bud of her clitoris, which was screaming for some attention. She tried to arch her back even further to bring it within reach of his sweeping touch, but he always stopped just short, approaching but never arriving.

It was almost a relief when his dual assault on her body stopped, although she felt bereft of his touch. "Avon?" she whispered, wondering what he was doing behind her. Then she heard the sound of unfastening and rustling cloth, and she got a fair idea.

The bulging head of his erect cock felt burning hot as it touched her body, and Soolin couldn't restrain a brief tensing of muscles as it nudged up against her arsehole. His finger had felt good, but buggery really was above and beyond the call of duty. She was relieved as his hand pushed between their bodies to guide his cock lower, and she wriggled against him to find the best angle for penetration.

As he wrapped his arm around her waist again to hold her still, she flinched at the pain of the metal trim on his leather jacket digging into her unprotected skin. He must have realised the source of her discomfort, because he paused for a moment to shrug the jacket more widely open, so that it encompassed both of them. The fabric of the shirt he wore underneath was much softer against her back, and he was warmer to the touch.

She welcomed him as he plunged into her, pushing back against him with equal enthusiasm as he drove hard and deep into her body. It was hard work just to stay upright with the momentum of his body slamming into her. The way he had positioned her, legs apart and bent forward so that he could take her from behind, made his cock feel rock-solid and even thicker than she had anticipated. He was hot, too, flaming inside her, and she realised that he must be wracked with fever.

He started to gasp and groan quietly as he took her faster and faster, and Soolin began to moan in empathy with him. His thrusts were becoming less and less controlled, and she became desperate to reach her own climax in the little time left before he spent himself. She let go of the shelf with one hand and brought it down to find the hardened nub of her clitoris, nestled achingly close to his driving cock. But before she could bring herself to orgasm his strong hand caught her wrist and dragged it back up to the shelves, then resumed his tight grip around her waist.

"Avon!" she howled in almost frantic need, but he ignored her entreaties. Her frustration had her squirming with the desire for release, but all too soon she heard his soft cry of climax. He gave a last few jerky thrusts into her body before he fell still.

He didn't withdraw but stayed locked into her, breathing heavily and leaning his weight against her braced body. Soolin began to tremble, not with cold or fear, but with the sheer physical effort of supporting both of them. His greater height had forced her up on to tiptoes, and her calf muscles were screaming with the stress. It was almost enough to distract her from her edgy sense of unsatisfied sexual frustration. Almost.

Her trembling was having its effects on Avon, and after a few moments she felt his prick twitching inside her. Her internal muscles squeezed involuntarily at the stimulation, and the blood surged back into him. He stiffened rapidly, stretching and filling her once again and making her moan with renewed desire.

Avon gave a long, low sigh and ground his hips into her arse, penetrating her as deeply as he could reach. Soolin's knees were weak and wobbly, and her elbows shook uncontrollably as she tried to keep them braced. She began to collapse beneath him as he made a slow, experimental withdrawal and thrust.

"Can't," she gasped, "not like this. You're too heavy." She fell against the shelves as he pulled out of her and let her go, and she took a moment to recover her strength.

The gun prodded coldly into her shoulder once again. "Turn around. Slowly. Then sit down on the floor."

Soolin hobbled a little as she obeyed, careful as always to keep her hands where Avon could see them. She sat with her arms wrapped around her bent knees, and took the opportunity to look closely at him. He was still breathing hard and his face looked pale and gaunt, with prominent cheekbones and hollow cheeks making him look tired and ill. The smears of high colour across his damp cheeks and his glittering eyes confirmed her suspicions that his body was fighting back with a feverish response. There was a wet sheen of sweat dampening strands of hair down on to his forehead.

As if he'd read her mind, Avon wiped his free hand across his brow. He took a careful aim at her with the gun, pulled one arm out of the sleeve of his jacket, then switched gun hands and shrugged the jacket to the floor.

"On your back." Soolin eased herself back slowly, and spread her legs without waiting to be told. Her calves still hurt, and she kept her knees bent. Avon dropped to his knees between her legs, but he still held the gun pointed at her midriff.

He undid the trousers which he had roughly refastened just a moment before, and pushed them down over his hips to expose himself to her for the first time. His hard prick bobbed against the hem of his shirt as it sprang free, and she yearned to reach out for him, to pleasure him, to wrap the thick shaft in her warm palm, to tease the soft balls with flickering fingers. But touching him might be suicide, quite literally.

"Hands above your head." She slid her hands along the hard floor and laced them together above her. The position made it difficult to look at him, and she fixed her eyes on the ceiling and waited for him to come to her again. It wasn't an unwelcome prospect, except for the gun he insisted on keeping aimed at her.

She tensed as the barrel of the weapon slid into her ribs. "Avon," she said, "can you put the gun down, please? I don't know what sorts of things turn you on, but I imagine screwing a corpse isn't one of them. I can't get away from you, not like this."

He lay down over her, pinning her to the floor with the weight of his body. He was close to entering her, his cock was working its way between her legs, smooth satiny skin against smooth satiny skin. She longed to push up his shirt, to feel his hot skin and hard muscle slide against her whole body, but the gun was still making her feel tense and nervous.

"Please, Avon," she whispered softly, "you're frightening me. Put it down."

His empty hand reached up to grasp her joined hands and he took most of his weight on that forearm, pressing her arms down to the floor. He was stretched full length above her now, and her bruised wrist hurt as he leant on it, but she bit her lip and said nothing. The cold gun muzzle pulled away from her ribs and she felt him stretch out to push it away from him, at arm's length but still comfortably within his reach, although well out of hers. He pulled his other arm up to make his hold on her hands even more secure.

Soolin was surprised when he lay still for a moment and looked her in the eyes. She didn't know how to read what she saw there. The brown eyes were so familiar, and yet so strange. The gaze was almost too steady, as if he was looking but not really seeing her. She was used to seeing him cold, or distant, or expressionless, but it was always Avon she saw. Now she wasn't so sure, and it made her shiver a little.

His hips moved against hers as he sought entry to her body once again, and she winced and shifted a little beneath him. She pressed up against him, using her movements to guide him, and then gasped aloud as he found the right spot. Slightly painful resistance gave way to delight as he slid into her slick passage with one smooth thrust. His eyes closed slowly and his lips parted with a sigh as he paused inside her, and in that expression she saw that the Avon she knew was still there, beneath the madness. She closed her own eyes, holding the memory, not wanting to see him slide away from her again.

Avon took her more slowly this time, some of the desperate wildness gone from him, and Soolin found that her body responded quickly to his gentler handling. He had taken her to the edge of ecstasy once already, and now the thick hot root of his cock ground satisfyingly against her tingling clitoris with each slow thrust and gyration. She felt the delicious tension begin in the base of her stomach as his every movement aroused her more and more.

The sensations she had been craving flooded through her with sudden and unbearable intensity, and Soolin cried out Avon's name as she came and the rippling ecstasy took over her body and her mind. She engulfed him, holding him tight inside, encouraging him onwards. He responded to her cries of rapture by increasing his own pace, twisting more vigorously within her, driving ever deeper inwards.

His energy took her back quickly to a plateau of ecstasy, and each thrust made her cry out anew in wordless declarations of pleasure. A tingling, leaden paralysis spread through her limbs, focusing all her attention on the ministrations of Avon's silken, solid prick and the melding of their bodies. The sensation was too much, the pleasure almost unbearable, and she was torn between begging him to stop and commanding him to keep going forever. If he kept it up much longer, she feared her sanity might be stripped away just as completely as his had been.

She wailed and sobbed as the delicious torture continued, writhing against him, fighting against his vice-like hold on her arms. She wanted to break free and clutch his body even closer, to enfold him in her embrace and take him with her into the bottomless depths of her bliss. She pulled her legs up and wrapped her thighs around his hips, holding him tight. The new position only increased her stimulation, and she gripped him more energetically inside and out as he continued to find her most sensitive places, time and time again.

Avon began to mumble, incoherent snatches of affirmation and pleasure bursting from his lips between his gasps and moans. Soolin felt herself clutching uncontrollably inside, the intensity of her orgasm giving her more strength and stamina than she thought possible. At last her climax peaked in a starburst of electric sensation, and she gave one last desperate wail and a powerful squeeze before subsiding in weary relief beneath him.

A wild cry broke from Avon's lips as he burrowed hard and deep, and Soolin felt his cock pulse as he spurted within her for a second time. He buried himself over and over again in a frenzy of spasmodic lunges, his gasps and movements eventually becoming softer and slower until finally he rested in silence.

Soolin opened her eyes and looked up at him with genuine but unexpected tenderness. It was a feeling she rarely experienced, but his exposed vulnerability stirred something in her. His own eyes were closed and his head hung down limp, and exhaustion and release were written all over his flushed, sweating face.

Now was the time to act, Soolin knew, while he was still distracted and not thinking clearly. She wished she could hold Avon's gaze for a moment, to know whether he had purged any of the demons which had possessed him, but she couldn't risk the delay. And it really would be easier to do if she didn't have to look him in the eye.

As he sagged exhaustedly against her, sandwiching her against the cold floor, his tight grip on her wrists eased off and she was able to inch her hands slowly downwards towards her head. He loosened his hold on one hand altogether, and she slid her fingers into her hair. He was still recovering from his orgasm and his eyes remained closed, but she was careful to look as though she was only pushing her tangled hair free from her face.

Her fingertips found one of the hair pins which she and Vila had prepared specially. The deft-fingered thief had cunningly refashioned them so that the thin metal shaft of the pin was replaced by a pressure-sensitive hypodermic dispenser from the medical kit. Soolin worked the pin free, then swung it in a short arc and jabbed it as hard and deep as she could into the muscles of Avon's shoulder, piercing his light shirt.

He almost reacted in time. His eyes flew wide open with shock and pain while his hand reached for the gun in a sudden burst of strength, as Soolin struggled to pull him back and restrain him.

"You lied to me, damn you!" he roared, but then the quick-acting tranquilliser passed into his still-pounding bloodstream and he collapsed unconscious on top of her, pinning her down.

Soolin grabbed him by the shoulder and hip and managed to roll him off. His softening erection was still buried deep inside her, and she groaned at the loss of him as their bodies separated. Her limbs trembled as she got shakily to her hands and knees and checked Avon as he lay sprawled on his back. He was twisted at awkward angles and his breathing was shallow. She lifted one eyelid and saw that his pupils had shrunk to a pinprick, barely visible in the rich brown of the iris. He wasn't faking. The sight of his blood on the metal shaft made her shudder a little as she pulled the needle from his body.

She got to her feet and took a moment to compose herself before she went to unbolt and open the door. She didn't step out into their line of fire, but called through it.

"Tarrant, Dayna, come in. It worked, he's out cold."

Tarrant was the first to step through cautiously, and Soolin saw the look of horror which passed over his face. He backtracked quickly to block the door and spoke over his shoulder.

"Dayna, hand me Soolin's gown, then go and make sure Vila's got everything ready in the resuscitation room. Go!"

Soolin looked at the scene around her as Tarrant approached her with her gown, his eyes averted. Avon, deathly white and sprawled on the floor with his trousers down around his knees, his flaccid genitals still glowing scarlet in the aftermath of sex. Soolin herself, standing naked and shivering with her hair completely disarrayed, a nasty red welt spreading across one forearm, and the glistening trails of Avon's semen running down her thighs.

"Tarrant, it's not as bad as you're thinking," she said briskly to the horrified man. "Don't look at him like that, he didn't force me. It was all part of the plan. Help me get him decent before we move him." She tied the gown around her and knelt beside Avon again, tugging at his trousers. He was a dead weight unconscious, and it took Tarrant's reluctant assistance to dress him.

"Can you carry him that far?" she asked the tall pilot as they got Avon's comatose body off the floor and slung over Tarrant's shoulder. She picked up Orac from the shelf.

"Of course. I'll have to, anyway. I don't like the sound of his breathing."

Soolin followed Tarrant through the dim corridors to the resuscitation room, but as they reached the door he put out his free hand to stop her.

"I can manage him now. Leave Orac here and go, get yourself cleaned up. The fewer of us who know what went on in there, the better."

She silently agreed, and went back to her quarters for a long hot shower.

#  #  #

"Avon, if you're awake, let me in." She kept her voice cool and businesslike.

There was a brief pause before she heard him answer. "Soolin?"

"Yes. We need to talk, the sooner the better." After a few seconds, the door slid open and she stepped in. He was wearing only a dark shirt and trousers, with no shoes, and she wondered whether she'd interrupted him getting ready for bed. He looked different without the heavy black jacket he wore like protective armour--younger, gentler, less distant. She kept that observation to herself.

He didn't speak, but went back to his bed and sat down, perched motionless and awkwardly stiff on the edge of the mattress. She pulled out the chair from his desk and turned it to face him. She sat too and watched him for a moment. He wouldn't meet her eyes.

"How do you feel now?" The detoxification programme had been successful, she knew, and he should have no lingering after-effects from either the poison or the tranquilliser. She had to say something to open the conversation, though, and old clichés would serve as well as anything.

His hands were laced together and he looked resolutely at his thumbs, his face set and expressionless. "Very surprised to be alive. It would have been safer to kill me, not try to negotiate with a paranoid psychotic."

"Oh, I considered killing you. If you'd killed Dayna or Vila, I probably would have. You were very lucky that we realised you'd probably been poisoned somehow." She shook her head. "After all you've survived, Avon, it would have been extraordinarily ironic to fall victim to a carelessly picked toadstool served up in a back-of-beyond spaceport market." That at least got a wry suggestion of a smile, even if he didn't look up.

Soolin paused, but Avon didn't fill the silence. She spoke again. "You should talk to Vila, soon, reassure him that you're yourself again. He was terrified."

"Why does that not surprise me?" There was a touch of his normal sneer in his voice, and it annoyed her.

"Scared _for_ you, not scared of you. Well, that too, but mostly scared for you. They do care about you, you know, all of them."

"More fool them," Avon rasped out. "Sentiment could have got them all killed, you included." He finally raised his eyes to look at her. He cleared his throat before he spoke again, but his voice stayed husky.

"I'll get Tarrant to take you wherever you want to go. I know I owe you money, I'll get together as much as I can. It won't be enough, but it's the best I can do. All I ask is that you don't sell us out to the Federation, for the sake of the others. This isn't their fault."

"You're kicking me out?" she asked coolly.

"Well, now, I'd rather assumed you wouldn't want to stay, not after..." he trailed off.

"Not after what?" she challenged.

"You really want me to say it?"

"Yes. Say it, Avon. Get it out in the open."

His eyes dropped down, but then lifted again to hold her gaze. She saw the shame and discomfiture in his face, but he was prepared to accept whatever punishment she handed out to him. "I assumed you wouldn't want to stay after I had raped you."

"And that's what happened, was it?"

"Yes, damn it!" he snapped at her. "I'm sorry it happened, all right? I'm sorry! But I can't undo what I did."

She stood up from the chair and crossed to the bed, while he watched her warily. She sat down on the edge of the bed, close but not touching, and she could see that he had to fight not to shuffle away from her.

"How much detail do you remember?" she asked him.

"Enough to know what happened," he ground out, his eyes angry.

"I wonder," she said. "Do you remember what happened when you first touched me?"

"Don't, Soolin," he said, his tone a curious mixture of warning and pleading.

She ignored him. "You turned me on. I liked it. I wanted more."

"You don't have to do this," he whispered. "Don't pretend that you wanted it, or that I'm not accountable for what I did."

"I'm not pretending. Why do you think I went in there dressed like that? I knew what I was offering you." She slid open the top few inches of her plain grey jumpsuit, enough to show her uncovered rounded cleavage.

Avon resolutely refused to look at her barely covered breasts. "And that's supposed to exonerate me? With your body, it was an excellent tactic for distracting a psychotic man. Especially one with a loaded gun pointed at you."

Soolin shifted so that she knelt on the bed next to him, her legs slightly splayed. "Drop the guilt trip, it's not you. You're not applying your usual cold logic to the situation. Accept responsibility for what happened, if you like, but _think_. When I stripped, when you touched me, how did I feel to you?"

He couldn't keep the distress from his face, and Soolin almost relented, but she had to go on with this. _Wanted_ to go on with this, for both their sakes. Xenon was as close as she had to home, and this bunch of jaded revolutionaries were slowly becoming more than mere temporary acquaintances.

"I was wet, wasn't I? Hot. Wet. Ready. I wanted you."

"No," he whispered. "Don't."

"Yes," she said. "I was hot and ready. For God's sake, Avon, you made me _come_! And you call it rape?" She swept a hand down her jumpsuit, splitting it to the crotch. She wore nothing underneath, and the tight blonde curls covering her mound were visible through the open fasteners.

"I wanted you, out of your mind or not," she murmured to him. "I've wanted you since you arrived, and I think you've wanted me. The poison just uninhibited you. I was a willing partner. I'm responsible too."

Soolin reached out and picked up Avon's hand. He was trembling slightly, and she heard his breath catch in his throat as she pulled his unresisting hand towards her. She guided him inside her clothes, made him touch her, made him feel her wetness and desire once again. She'd been thinking about him before she came here, remembering the fierce sexual energy that had burned within him. She wanted to feel that again.

"Don't!" he cried once again, with more feeling, and jerked his hand away.

"What do you want from me, Soolin? Some sort of revenge?" There was an edge of quiet desperation to his voice.

She tugged her hair free of the simple ponytail with one hand, while she reached out to trail the other down his chest and across his stomach. His muscles contracted away from her touch as she pushed him over to lie flat on his bed, but she slid up his thin shirt and bent to lay a swirl of light kisses across his tense belly. He shivered as her hair flowed in disarray across his skin.

Soolin lifted her mouth from his body and smiled up into his troubled eyes. She held his gaze while she deftly unfastened his trousers, then swung herself across him in one lithe movement to sit astride his hips. His hand moved tentatively towards the open front of her jumpsuit and the smooth soft body beneath, and she felt him begin to swell and stiffen beneath her as she circled her hips, gently rubbing herself against him.

She bent forward until her breasts brushed his chest, and whispered into his ear.

"No, not revenge. This time, I want you to kiss me before you fuck me."

Avon kissed her.

 


End file.
